Going Down

As previously mentioned, GLUE Weekend involves contests: Mr. Third Coast Gear, which is a fun bar title, and Mr. Third Coast Leather, which is a feeder to International Mr. Leather. We put a lot of work into assembling a well-known and well-respected judging panel for MTCL, and for the past two years, we’ve been very lucky to have Dirk Caber — star of numerous educational, adult-oriented, alternative lifestyle features — as one of our judges.

“I’m dreamy but don’t act like I’m dreamy, which makes me like seventeen times dreamier.”

I don’t know how many porn stars you guys run around with, but Dirk is seriously one of the nicest, most genuine people I’ve ever met. He’s modest and intelligent and has an excellent sense of humor, and he’ll hug you just for the sake of hugging, and I am not in love with him so much as I want to be him when I grow up.

One of the big highlights of GLUE is the Officer’s Luncheon, where everyone straps themselves into their finest formal leather and consumes mass quantities of Southern breakfast foods during a keynote address. Dirk and I happened to leave our hotel rooms at the same time that morning, and we boarded the elevator together to head down to the ballroom off the lobby where the luncheon was being held. It was close to checkout time, so every few seconds we stopped at a different floor. And whenever the doors opened, unsuspecting hotel patrons would start to drag on their luggage, then stop and stare at the two men attempting to act casual while dressed like administrators from the management offices of the Death Star.

The elevator continued its descent, with Dirk and I chatting about the difficulties of lacing boots while wearing skintight pants, and everyone else pretending we weren’t weirding them the fuck out, when one of the other passengers turned to Dirk and asked, “Are you famous?”

Dirk shrugged as I choked on my own spit and admitted that yes, some people would call him famous.

The elevator thankfully reached the ground floor before I could finish chewing through my tongue, and at the luncheon, the other guests at our table were greatly entertained when we related the story to them. (We ultimately decided that if it happened again, we would explain that he was a regular on the original British version of The Office.) Amusement aside, though, I can’t help but wonder who the guys on the elevator actually thought Dirk was. I mean, he sort of resembles a young Xander Berkeley (if young Xander Berkeley worked out a lot), but otherwise, I feel like somebody needs to sit these dudes’ wives down and have a long come-to-Jesus.

Funny, I also look at buff, gay, leather men and don’t so much fall in love with them as want to be them when I grow up. The vagina and breasts (and not identifying as a man thing) kind of ruin the aesthetic, but maybe one day.